Unsafe Working Conditions

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

That man in the protective suit, the one who tallied slaves' scrap when they came in from the steelyard (assuming they came in at all)- he'd leered. He'd actively leered at Ellen. And the things he'd said under his breath to Voodoo- well, she hadn't heard them, but she'd heard the man's snicker and it was a sound she didn't want to hear ever again. Frankly, she was darn grateful to hear the Mill door close behind them and see the light wink out.

Out here, the only light is what makes it through the clouds and smog above. It's daytime, Ellen can tell that much, but when the air's polluted enough that the sky's the color of bile you can't really tell much more than that. She shakes her head grimly and looks to Voodoo. "Let's get to somewhere you can undo the wrist bindings," she says. "I want my weapons back if we're going to look for Dave in this." She casts an eye over the buckling fences and ancient, corroded railroad cars and adds, "Probably the Shishkebab. This is too much like the Metro tunnels- I haven't got enough line of sight for the Gauss rifle to be worthwhile."

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

"I can undo 'em right now," Voodoo says. "Got that deck thing on you?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Yeah, there's a pocket in this getup. With holes in it, but not big enough for the deck to fall through," Ellen says. "I hope Dogmeat's got enough sense to stay out of sight while we're in here..."

[boston_bruiser]

"Okay." Voodoo finds the pocket easy enough - finding the Leatherman is a little trickier.

"C'mon, you son of a bitch, where are you..."

It's near the end of the deck. With two quick cuts, the cuffs come apart and fall to the ground.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Thanks," says Ellen, and shakes out her hands. A moment later, she's taken the deck back and got her laser pistol on her belt and the fuel tank part of her Shishkebab on her back. "Now, let's see..."

There was a time when the train cars rolled up to within an easy walk of the door, and when trucks could be driven even closer than that. A wrecked truck nearby, its power plant long since stripped and removed, bears mute witness to that fact. Scrambling up on top of the truck for a relatively better vantage reveals makeshift scaffolding and piles of junk close to the Mill's bulk, the train cars mostly arranged along rails that run towards the north, and multiple smaller buildings all arrayed to the west, bearing mute testament to what was once a truly massive industrial operation.

Paler shapes flicker in and out of the shadows around the boxcars, too low to the ground to be human.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo spots them and brings his machine gun up.

"Got movement. Looks like trogs."

He scans the boxcars, to no avail, then climbs up on one.

If he listens carefully, he can almost hear their labored rasps echoing from between the cars.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen's breath hisses, but she nods. From the truck where she's standing, she can see the way Voodoo's looking, and she doesn't like it. Especially not that knot of pale shapes gathered around something on the ground-

"Looks like they're eating something. I'd say leave them to it, but I don't know if it's animal or human."

[boston_bruiser]

"Left my frags with my gear, but if we leave 'em to it, they might jump us from the rear. No sound cover if we waste 'em. Your call."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Let's keep moving," Ellen says after a bit. "We're too close to the door for your gun and I can't take them all alone with the Shishkebab."

It's not a situation she likes, not at all, but they don't need both trogs and that vile Everett person coming after them.

[boston_bruiser]

"Okay."

Voodoo hops the gap to the next boxcar. The trogs notice, but they're too busy with their kill to care.

"No movement," he says after a quick sweep of his front. "Ain't like the smog's helping."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I hate this place," Ellen says as she makes her way over, keeping an eye out behind them. "And I'm starting to hate Paladin Renny for sending me here. That's normal, right?"

"Billy?"

It's a man's voice on the other side of a pile of old truck tires. Not anyone Ellen recognizes, thank God- just a thin, pale man with too many sores for anyone's good, crouching on the far side of a razor-wire-topped fence and calling, "Billy, it's me..."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo glances over at the man - nothing to worry about, just some nut talking to himself -

- except a few steps closer reveal he's not talking to himself, but to a hunched-over trog, growling its wet, raspy growl and crawling toward him on all fours.

Voodoo's machine gun is up and centered on the trog in a heartbeat. "Sir, stand the fuck back!"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The man jerks back, startled, and gives Voodoo and Ellen a wide-eyed look. "That's my brother," he says. "He- he remembers me, I'm sure he does!"

[boston_bruiser]

"I don't give a shit if he's the king of fucking Siam, he's gonna bite your fucking head off!"

The trog doesn't give any indication otherwise - he's growling much louder now, rattling at the fence that separates him from Voodoo and Ellen. Voodoo tightens his grip on the M60.

"I'm only gonna say it one more time, sir: Stand. The fuck. Back!"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Hesitantly, the man takes a step sideways- and then another, and reaches for the gate at the corner of the fence.

Even in this smog it's not difficult to see the color drain from his face as he discovers the lock's stuck.

[boston_bruiser]

The only protection the trog has is the chain-link fence.

BUPBUPBUPBUPBUP.

Which is to say, against a concentrated burst of 7.62...none.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There are still splatters of trog blood and bone flying every which way as Ellen darts forward to get that gate open for the man. Even after it creaks open, though, he stands there staring at the bullet-riddled corpse. "Billy-"

Ellen grimaces, grabs his wrist, and pulls him away. "You need to get out of here," she says. "There's scrap metal and ingots aplenty to the left of the door back there. Grab some and go back in. You can mourn for your brother later."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo's still fixed on the trog as the man hobbles away, iron sights on center-mass in case it gets up.

It doesn't.

He scans the rest of the railyard. "Looks like it's just the one. For now. Sound could've stirred more up. I say we displace and move fast."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"No argument here," Ellen says fervently. "Those things aren't right."

The bulk of another building rears up against the orange-grey sky across the way, lights flickering feebly downward from a few places on the outer wall. There's not much in the way of cover along the outside, save for a few... alcoves? Bubbles? They look a bit like darkened phonebooths.

At least there's no sign of trogs in them, though.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo spots the lights first - in a place like this, how can he not - then the building.

"Power's on in the building 'cross the way. No movement. Not much cover. Looks like a good place to lay low for a bit."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"No argument here," Ellen says, and draws her blade. "If Dave's here and he has any sense at all, he'll be taking shelter in there."

[boston_bruiser]

"I ain't gettin' my hopes up," Voodoo mutters.

With that, he hops off, sprints to a nearby boxcar, slides to an edge, and peeks out - there's no movement, ground level or higher.

"Way forward's clear. Got you covered."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Truth be told, Ellen isn't either. She's met the man. But if they eliminate the place from contention, that'll at least be something.

She nods to Voodoo and looks both ways before dropping to ground level and darting across the open space. She's seen the way the trogs move and she doesn't like to present a target for longer than absolutely necessary. Without the stealth suit or armor, all she's got is speed and the fact that she's relatively small; she plasters herself against a shadowed bit of the building immediately and gestures to Voodoo that she's all right.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo nods once, then looks both ways before dropping to a crouch and sprinting across the open space. He flattens himself on a convenient piece of building, then creeps up to the door and places his hand on the doorknob.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

No lock in evidence, and while there's rust, someone's opened the door recently. The knob turns far too easily and the door swings open with relatively minimal resistance.

Yeah, Ellen doesn't like the look of that either. The Shishkebab isn't lit yet, but it's drawn and ready to go if even the slightest movement appears in the shadows.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo duckwalks in, weapon up - the room's empty, save for two generators on either side of the room. He puts his back against a wall, machine gun trained on the walkway leading into the far room.

"Room clear. Hallway, twelve."